The Signal
by TheFirstMrsHummel
Summary: Kurt and Finn discover one more thing you have to get used to when you suddenly have a step-brother the same age.  Mostly Kurofsky with a dash of Finchel and Kurt/Finn friendship.
1. Chapter 1

_**After all my efforts to gradually build up the Kurofsky in Earning It, I had an itch this morning to write a shorter piece without all that back story. Please let me know if you like it - your reviews mean the world to a fledgling writer like me.**_

Chapter 1

Kurt headed down the stairs to his bedroom, anxious to get his red-piped blazer off and replaced with something a little more fashionable. He loved most things about Dalton, but those ugly blazers really needed to go. The red was bright enough to make your eyes bleed, and those high lapels were _so_ 2007. He wondered if maybe he could organize some kind of uniform committee, and grinned as the wheels started turning in his mind.

As he hit the bottom step, he finally registered soft noises coming from the basement room. Following the sound, he glanced at the couch, mouth dropping open. Finn was on top of Rachel, kissing her passionately, the two of them moaning and gasping desperately. Immediately squicked out, Kurt was further appalled to see that Finn had his hand up Rachel's shirt. And it was _moving_.

"EWWWWWWWWW!" he shouted, dropping his leather bag on the floor. "Really, guys? Gross!"

Rachel shot up from her prone position, accidentally smacking her forehead into Finn's. He reared back with a loud "Ouch!", and the momentum caused him to fall off of both Rachel and the couch. Kurt rolled his eyes as Finn hit the floor with a meaty thump.

Rachel was red as a tomato, trying desperately to regain some dignity by smoothing her hair and rumpled shirt with her hands. Finn pushed himself up on his elbows, peering up at Kurt with a flustered expression. "Sorry, dude. I thought you were going somewhere with Blaine after school."

"He had to cancel al the last minute. I wasn't aware that if I didn't text you about it, I'd have to witness you and Berry turning our bedroom into Caligula!" He sighed at Finn's confused face, but Rachel got the reference and blushed an even darker red. She stood up, gave Finn a peck on the cheek, and said "I think I should go." She skulked by Kurt, mumbling "sorry" and trying to avoid his sneering gaze. She fled up the stairs as if her Grammy award were waiting at the top.

Finn shifted up to the couch. "Really, I am sorry, Kurt. Maybe we should have some sort of a signal for the future, if one of us has…uh…company." He squirmed uncomfortably under his step-brother's stare. It was the exact same glare Burt had given him while berating Finn for using the word "faggy" last year. Apparently, being able to shrivel someone's balls with a mere look was a Hummel family trait. Wonderful.

"No, Finn, we are not going to have a fucking _signal_. Because that implies I'm fine with the two of you bumping uglies all over that couch." Kurt looked at the now offensive piece of furniture as if it were crawling with Diphtheria. "You do realize I sometimes like to sit on that thing while watching DVDs? It's going to have to be re-upholstered now, and I'm not paying for it!"

Finn began to get annoyed. "Jesus, dude, calm down! We were just making out, okay? I'm sure you won't catch straight from our cooties."

"That's not the point, Finn!" Kurt threw up his arms, and Finn could see he was working himself up into a true hissy fit. This blended family thing could be a total pain in the ass sometimes, even when your new step-brother wasn't crushing on you . "This is my room too! I should be able to feel comfortable in it, and not have to picture…that! " he sputtered.

"We were just _kissing_, Kurt!"

"Oh really?" Kurt narrowed his eyes. "How would you feel if _you_ walked in on me and a guy doing that exact same thing? What if, instead of your hand up Rachel's shirt, you saw me fondling another boy's nipple on the couch where you play Call of Duty every frigging night!"

Finn couldn't help it, he actually blanched at the thought. He didn't have any problems with Kurt's sexuality in the more generic sense, and even figured he'd be happy to see him holding hands or slow dancing with Mr. Right someday. But he did not want to think about the specifics of how two dudes went at it with each other. His stomach lurched a little. So much for being all evolved and shit about having a gay brother.

Kurt took in the repulsed look on Finn's face. "Exactly as I thought." He continued in a haughty, holier-than-thou tone that grated on Finn's nerves. "How you're feeling right now is just how I felt a few minutes ago. I'm glad you and Rachel are in love, but that was just way TMI for me." He waved a hand dismissively.

"I understand." said Finn. "I'll tell Burt and mom that I spilled a slushie all over the cushions. Maybe we can get a slipcover or something. Would that make you feel better?" He looked earnestly up at Kurt, really wanting to make everything right again.

Sensing Finn's sincerity, Kurt wound down a couple of notches. He drew closer, avoiding any contact with the tainted couch. He smiled a little, putting his hand on Finn's shoulder. After a brief pause, he gave a small sigh and said, "I think that would work."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Kurt was sitting in the living room reading a book when the doorbell rang. He was annoyed; it was a lot harder to get some quiet time alone in the house now that Carole and Finn were in residence. He knew he was being a brat about it, since the good things about their new family situation well outweighed the bad. But he'd been an indulged only child for almost 17 years, and sometimes it was hard for him to adjust. At least he knew Finn felt the same way too, sometimes.

Burt and Carole were at their bowling league, and Finn was at Rachel's, presumably doing that thing he wasn't able to do in his own bedroom anymore (the new slipcovers were actually a very nice dark burgundy). Kurt put his book down and went to answer the door, mentally cursing whoever it was on the other side. If it was those damn door-to-door Bible thumpers again…

He whipped open the door to see the one person on the face of the earth he'd never expect. Dave Karofsky stood there on his porch, head turning from side to side as if trying to gauge if he was being seen. The blood drained out of Kurt's face - he hadn't seen Karofsky in a couple of months, not since he'd dropped out of McKinley to avoid having his brains turned into oatmeal by the twice daily locker slammings. Terrified, he tried to close the door, only to be blocked by Karofsky's giant sneaker. Oh God, did he know Kurt was all alone in the house?

"C'mon Hummel, let me in. I need to talk to you!" His voice was slightly muffled by the door.

Kurt was pushing against the door with all his might. He was surprisingly strong; all that dancing built plenty of muscle, even if it wasn't the kind you got from lifting weights or playing football. Still, Karofsky was much broader and heavier than Kurt, and he didn't doubt for a minute how easily he could be overpowered by the larger boy.

"You must think I'm an idiot! I'm not letting you in here! Fuck off!" he cried.

"Kurt, please. I really need to talk to you." Kurt was taken aback by several things. Karofsky had called him by his first name. He'd said please. And strangest of all, his voice sounded completely sincere. Kurt was still scared as shit, but he had to admit he didn't think Karofsky was that good of an actor. He also realized that there was no counter-pressure coming from the other side of the door.

"Take your foot out of the door. I need a minute." he said shakily. He let up on the door a little, and Karofsky's shoe slid out. Kurt closed the door and locked it, leaning his back against it for support as his breathing returned to normal. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed 911, and stuck it back in his pants. If things went bad, all he would have to do was hit the send button. Cautiously, he unlocked and opened the door.

Karofsky stood there looking worried and a little embarrassed. "I wasn't sure you were going to open that door again." he said quietly.

"Me either. Kurt gestured for Karofsky to cross the threshold. "Okay, start talking."

"Can we maybe sit down?" Karofsky asked.

Jesus, thought Kurt, next he'll want me to bring out tea and sandwiches. "I guess so." He led the way into the living room, touching the phone in his pocket to remind himself of its presence. He sat on the couch, and Karofsky proceeded to sit at the other end, as far away as he could be while sharing the same piece of furniture. "Okay, we're sitting. Could you please get to the point already?" he said in a snotty tone.

Karofsky looked down at his clasped hands, then back up at Kurt. "I need your help." he said.

Kurt barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes dramatically. "What could you possibly need my help with? And why would I even want to help you in the first place?"

"I think I want to come out of the closet, Kurt." His voice somehow managed to communicate fear, sadness and excitement all at once. His eyes never left Kurt's.

Kurt's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was entirely speechless. Apparently, Dave Karofsky had quite the talent for rendering him so. He swallowed, and tried again. "You _what_?"

"I want to come out. I'm sick of hiding who I am! I hate taking out Cheerios and resisting the urge to throw up when we make out. And most of all, I'm tired of pretending I haven't felt like crying every day since you left school." To Kurt's amazement, Karofsky's eyes became shiny with tears. "I don't blame you. I was fucking awful to you, shoving you around like that. I was just so pissed off and scared every time I saw you, so worried that everyone could tell what I was really feeling when I saw you in the halls. I had to make sure they never suspected. I _had_ to."

Kurt was not only surprised by the content of the words, but the sheer number of them. He didn't think he'd heard Karofsky say that many words total, let alone all at once.

"And then you had to come running after me, and _then_ I had to kiss you, like a goddammned idiot. I can't believe I thought you'd kiss me back. I could see how grossed out you were, and it killed me. I'd been dreaming about kissing you for 2 years, and then I had to go fuck it all up." He put his head in his hands briefly. "But even then, I couldn't keep from pushing you into the lockers. No, I had to keep making it worse, like the fuckup I am. I kept thinking that at least I got to touch you that way. How frigging sick is _that_?"

Kurt stayed silent, figuring it was a rhetorical question.

"And then you were gone. I had driven away the only person who might have actually accepted me the way I am. So I realized something had to change. Something had to change," he repeated, "or I was going to eat the barrel of my dad's hunting rifle." His eyes were haunted, and Kurt could tell he wasn't being melodramatic. It's not like he himself wasn't familiar with the urge, although it had thankfully been both rare and fleeting.

Karofsky continued, "I stopped pushing people into lockers, giving slushie facials, that kind of shit. Azimio gave me all sorts of crap over it, until I slammed _him_ up against a locker, and told him I wasn't interested in beating up on people any more unless they gave me grief. He called me a fag, and I said I didn't care what he thought I was, as long as he stayed out of my way and out of my face."

Kurt could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You really did that?" he breathed.

"Yup. I'm telling you, I've changed. I had to." He looked across the room for a minute, like he was trying to nerve himself up to confess something. After what he'd just heard, Kurt wasn't going to even try to guess what Karofsky would come out with next. He looked back at Kurt. "I always hoped you'd come back. That your dad would run out of tuition money, or you'd have a fight with that pretty boy, something. You'd have to come back to McKinley, and I needed to be a different person when you did. So I could…" he trailed off.

"So you could…" surely this wasn't going where Kurt thought it was going? No way.

"So I could ask you for another chance. A chance to start over again. I know you probably hate me for bullying you, but that wasn't really me, Kurt. Not the real me, the person I really am inside." He looked at Kurt pleadingly, and Kurt felt his stomach do a tiny little jump at the emotion in Karofsky's hazel eyes. "I couldn't wait any longer, and started thinking you might never come back, that I'd never see you again. So I had to come to you. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just want a chance for you to get to know me again, without the bullshit manly-man act. You still might not like me, but at least you'll be rejecting the real Dave Karofsky this time around."

Kurt didn't know what to say, so he just sat there, totally nonplussed. Dave (he somehow was finding it hard to think of him as Karofsky after all of this) slid closer on the couch, slowly and carefully, so as not to startle Kurt. He gently raised his hand to Kurt's face, cupping his baby-soft cheek. Kurt was distantly surprised to realize he had no desire to flinch, or pull away from Dave's hand. In fact, it felt kind of…nice?

" Just give me a chance to make it all up to you, Kurt. Please, I promise I'll never hurt you again. And I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt you, too. Just give me a chance…" he closed his eyes and brought his lips gently to Kurt's.

So Kurt closed his eyes, and gave Dave Karofsky his chance.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Finn Hudson walked in the front door of his house, slinging his book bag onto the floor and hanging up his jacket. He'd had a great time at Rachel's - her dads were off doing something, and Finn had taken the opportunity to try and convince her that it was time to let him touch her boob under the bra. She hadn't given in, but it sure had been fun trying. He knew she'd let him eventually, he just had to build a little more trust with her.

He reached into the fridge, looked around, then took a swig of milk out of the carton. His mom or Kurt would have thrown a shit fit if they'd caught him (though he suspected Burt indulged in skipping the glass every now and then), but no one was around. He wondered if maybe Kurt was in the bedroom downstairs, because he couldn't hear the TV or stereo playing.

As he walked towards the opening to the living room, he heard some soft noises. Not sure what it was, he crept quietly closer. He thought he heard some gasps and moans, and hoped like hell it wasn't Burt and his mom making out. Walking in on _that_ once was enough for a lifetime. Then he heard Kurt say "Oh God!" sounding as if he was in pain. Worried that his step-brother might be sick, or maybe hurt, he walked into the living room.

Kurt was in there, all right. But he wasn't alone. His back was up against the arm of the couch, head hanging over the side. There was some big dude on top of him, and it looked like he was gnawing on Kurt's slender neck. For a minute, Finn considered that it might be a zombie, chowing down on him. Perhaps the zombie invasion had actually begun? As impossible as the thought was, it wasn't nearly as impossible as what he saw next.

The guy took his face out of Kurt's neck, put his hand on the back of Kurt's head, and lifted it so they could see each other's faces. Kurt was red-faced, sweaty and completely disheveled. The other guy was…NO FUCKING WAY! Finn blinked several times, sure he must be hallucinating. He hoped Rachel's dads hadn't dropped any Ecstasy into those brownies he'd eaten. Judging by the profile, Dave fucking Karofsky was necking with his gay-as-a-picnic step-brother on the living room couch. Finn was frozen in place, unable to move or say anything.

Just to make it all the more horrifying, Dave spoke. "Does that feel good? Do you like it, Kurt?" he said, panting heavily.

Kurt looked dazedly at Dave, woozy and seeming almost drunk. "Yeah, it does. And I love it." A huge sloppy smile appeared on his face, which was immediately repeated on Dave's face. Finn didn't think his eyes could get much wider, but when Dave pressed his lips to Kurt's and started kissing him vigorously, he thought his eyeballs might actually fall out of his head. Oh God, was that tongue? His mouth pursed into a moue of disgust. Finn suddenly found his voice.

"EWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Kurt jackknifed up into a sitting position, knocking Dave off of him and onto the floor. He immediately scrambled to his feet, while Kurt remained on the couch, looking back and forth between him and Finn. "This isn't what it looks like!" Dave blurted out.

Finn frowned. "You weren't making out with Kurt in our parent's living room?" he asked dryly.

Dave considered for a minute. "Okay, I guess it's exactly what it looks like, then." He smiled crookedly at Finn's astonishment. He walked over to Kurt and kissed the top of his head. "I should probably go. Sorry, Finn." He walked out, and a minute later they heard the click of the front door closing.

Finn stared at Kurt, whose limbs appeared to be as limp as cooked noodles. Kurt raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile. Finn walked over and sat on the coffee table, careful not to let his knees brush against the couch. He opened his mouth to say something, but Kurt interrupted.

"You know, Finn, about that signal. Maybe it's not such a bad idea after all."

The End


End file.
